


Comfort

by RisingSm0ke



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Not Shippy, dadhog bc i love that hc, junkrat is having a hard time and roadhog helps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 05:01:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7999528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisingSm0ke/pseuds/RisingSm0ke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Junkrat's anxieties get the best of him and Roadhog finds him hiding in a closet in need of comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> i literally just wrote this and didnt really edit it, im too tired im sorry.

Anxiety coiled in his stomach like a twisting snake, climbing it's way up into his chest cavity with a dull ache that brought tears to his eyes. Lean form curled in on itself, Junkrat did his best to push back the nausea making waves through his body. Silent tears leaked through his tightly closed eyes and his flesh hand gripped at the stump of his right arm, fingers kneading the flesh with rough scratches.

His toes curled, tucked as far under his body as he could manage while sitting upright, and his forehead rested on his lone knee. He'd jammed himself into the corner of his bedroom closet, clothes he'd accumulated one way or another during his time spent with Overwatch hanging above his head. The soft heaves of his unsteady breathing was the only sound around him, silence ringing through his ears in a constant drone.

Junkrat rocked his torso with jittering energy, nails continuing their scratches until they left streaks of irritated red skin. The movement and pain helped keep his mind in the Now, pulling it back to reality each time it wandered back to thoughts of past regrets. It was hard not to think about everything at once, his mind raced and a headache pounded at his temples, the feeling that he was drowning in tar never quite leaving.

The muffled sound of the bedroom door opening distantly registered in Junkrat's mind, and though logic demanded he acknowledge the sound, he remained rooted in the darkness of the closet. Heavy footsteps made their way around the room in a familiar rhythm, pausing here and there before finally settling in front of the closet door.

Roadhog opened the door in one smooth motion, masked face tilting in a curious manner to see Junkrat curled in the corner of the small space. The younger didn't look up at his bodyguard, instead he hunched even further into himself, unwilling to let Roadhog see the tears making wet trails down his freckled cheeks, or the red lines and crescent indents in the skin of his right arm.

“There you are Rat,” Roadhog admonished, making it clear he'd been looking for the younger Junker and hoping to gain his attention. When Junkrat didn't react Roadhog sighed and tried again, firmly but not unkindly, “Jamison, come here.”

The gravely rumble of Roadhog's voice was something new to latch onto, and Junkrat found himself crawling unevenly out of the closet toward the sound. He pulled himself to sit at Roadhog's feet, raising a shaking hand in a wordless request for assistance. Roadhog reached down to envelope Junkrat's hand with his, pulling the smaller man upright effortlessly and wrapping an arm around his torso to keep him steady.

Steering Junkrat toward the bed, Roadhog sat him down on the edge of the mattress, looking over the other Junker's blank expression. His puffy eyes and the wetness of his cheeks betrayed the fact that he'd been crying, and Roadhog eyed the skin of his stump arm in concern. A growl of displeasure rumbled in his chest, causing Junkrat's posture to wither in what Roadhog assumed to be misplaced guilt.

A moment of silence passed between the two, uncomfortably long and rather concerning considering Junkrat usually leapt at the chance to fill gaps in conversation. The longer the wordless void between them stretched on, the more unsettled Roadhog became, and for once he decided to break the silence first.

“What's wrong.” The question was blunt and Roadhog regretted the lack of tact when Junkrat grimaced, his good hand absently going back to scratching and picking at his skin until Roadhog gently guided it away from causing further harm.

“I'll be fine,” Junkrat muttered, refusing to look at his bodyguard, eyes directed at his single remaining knee, though his gaze was glassy and unseeing.

“You're not fine now,” Roadhog pointed out, moving to settle on the floor in front of the bed instead of towering over his charge. He was nearly eye-height with Junkrat now, a little shorter even though Junkrat was slouching like a wilted plant.

“M'tired Roadie, and not just 'cause I can't sleep at night either,” Junkrat finally confessed, dragging his eyes up to meet Roadhog's through his mask. “M'tired of feelin' like a fuck up, or that nothin' I ever do'll be good enough.” His shoulders drooped, muscles shifting and relaxing under his skin as the tense energy drained out of him all at once.

Humming in acknowledgment, Roadhog otherwise remained silent in hopes that Junkrat would continue. When the younger failed to elaborate Roadhog grunted, massive hands coming up to clumsily unclasp the mask covering his face. Junkrat watched with wide eyes as Roadhog set the mask down on the side table softly, like it was a precious object made of glass. He'd seen Roadhog's face before, but the times when the larger Junker willingly took off his mask were few and far between.

A calmness washed over him at the sight of Roadhog's face, his mind working over the other man's features eagerly, pushing old anxieties to the wayside when presented with a new distraction. His molten eyes traced over Roadhog's broad features as the man turned back to him. Heavyset brows lowered over creased brown eyes in soft concern, crows feet spreading from the corners in testament to the man's age. White stubble spread across the lower half of his face, interrupted just above thick lips by a long scar that started at the left corner of his mouth and continued over the bridge of his wide nose.

Roadhog snorted, a reluctant smile pulling at his mouth the longer Junkrat stared. It was harder to breath correctly without his mask, his lungs itching with the need to cough when met with unfiltered air. The minor discomfort could be ignored for a while before the irritation grew into full coughing fits and the mask was needed again, but for now Roadhog was determined to live without it at least for the time being.

His wheezing breaths finally registered in Junkrat's mind, and a frown creased his features, “Ya don't gotta keep it off mate, I know yer lungs are fucked enough as it is,” He said, sounding more like himself now that his thoughts were being redirected. Roadhog let a rasping laugh escape from his chest, struggling to keep the inevitable coughs that followed to a minimum.

“Nah,” He dismissed with a labored breath, voice clearer without the obstruction of the mask, “I can live without it for a while.”

One of Junkrat's thick brows arched, his mouth crooking to the side with a hum a skeptical resignation before Roadhog's unrelenting stare started to make him fidgety. Another wave of anxiety rolled over him as he took his eyes off the larger Junker, negative feeling surging forward with the break from his distraction.

Roadhog saw the change physically in Junkrat's posture and the smile faded from his features, leaving him with a vague frown that looked more thoughtful than upset. With a strained grunt, Roadhog hauled himself to his feet, nudging Junkrat's knee with enough force to throw him off balance and make him focus on sitting upright.

“Move over,” Roadhog commanded, pushing against Junkrat again with less force. Scooting obediently to the other side of the bed, Junkrat watched with dull curiosity as Roadhog settled himself on on the bed as well, back half slouched against the headboard and arms open. Junkrat accepted the invitation without hesitation, crawling forward to tuck himself into the warmth of Roadhog's embrace. He curled up against the other man's side, head resting on his shoulder and knee pulled up against his soft belly. Roadhog's arm came back to wrap around Junkrat in a one armed cradle against his back, allowing the smaller Junker to feel relaxed as he was completely surrounded in a protective hold.

“You ain't a fuck up Jamie,” Roadhog rumbled lowly, eyeing the younger man in his arms, noticing distractedly that his hair was regrowing nicely under Mercy's careful treatment.

“Snowball yelled at me again t'day,” Junkrat mumbled, brow furrowing, “An I know Satya was frustrated 'bout the workshop bein' a mess. Nervous 'bout the mission to 'Stralia too. Been thinkin' bout shit and it's got me all fucked up.” He sighed, a deeply weary sound unbefitting of a man of only twenty-five.

“Why'd Mei yell at you?” Roadhog asked, rubbing his thumb absently over the skin of Junkrat's knee in soothing circles, letting his eyes drift close lazily.

“Bumped into her an knocked some do-dad outta her hands. Was an accident, didn't see her commin' round the corner. Tried to help her pick up the broken bits but she wasn't havin' it.” Junkrat's face was scrunched in an upset frown, the index finger of his good hand tracing along the shapes of Roadhog's tattoo with a fixated determination. Roadhog sighed, bringing his free hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“Sounds like Mei's problem then,” He supplied, continuing gruffly when Junkrat opened his mouth to protest, “And if ya don't want Satya to be mad then pick up your shit. We ain't in Junk Town no more and ya gotta get used to livin' with other people. Doesn't mean you're a fuck up, just means ya got some learning to do.” Roadhog paused to allow the coughs building in his chest to escape, lungs burning from all the talking he was doing without his mask.

“I don't wanna go back either Jamie, but people need our help and we don't gotta stay,” He reasoned, voice going soft at the mention of their homeland. Both of them held few fond memories of Australia, most of Hog's were from days before the destruction of the Omnium, and Junkrat wasn't even old enough to remember what life would have been like before then. The two slipped into another heavy silence, reliving old memories in the relative safety of each others company.

Roadhog heaved a wheezing sigh, images of the carnage left behind just after the Australian Liberation Front had assaulted the Omnium and caused the end of their world. It was all heat and flames, a burning itch that hung in the air and settled in his lungs where it remained years later. Radiation wasn't kind, and while he and Junkrat were always kept under Doctor Ziegler's watchful eye, the years under its influence had taken their toll.

Junkrat's thoughts strayed to his childhood, he spent a great deal of it alone, teetering on the brink of death as he struggled to survive the Outback wasteland at the tender young age of eight. His mother taken from him by a group of raiders similar to the ones the Overwatch team was being sent to deal with in the following week. A hollow pang of sorrow struck behind the cage of his ribs, he missed his mother dearly, and though he'd had plenty of years to come to terms with her death, the aching loneliness still managed to creep its way into his heart from time to time.

Shifting his head so he could look up at Roadhog, Junkrat felt the dull pain in his chest lessen. He may have lost a mother, but he'd gained the closest thing he'd ever have to a father. The thought brought with it another wave of relief, and Junkrat settled back against Roadhog's shoulder, letting his eyes wander around his room. They lingered on some of his favorite objects, like the trinkets and odd things Hana and Lucio brought him whenever they went out, or the blueprints Satya had given to him to look over as her own brand of peace-offering. His ukulele case sat in open view from the closet, given to him by Hog himself, worn and covered in stickers accumulated over the years. That instrument was without a doubt his most prized possession, and if he wasn't so comfortable tucked against Roadhog's side, he might have been tempted to retrieve it so he could play.

“Mako,” Junkrat whispered, like he was afraid to break the peaceful quiet. Roadhog grunted, the sound betraying none of his surprise at Junkrat's use of his name, “Yer right, we're gonna be okay,” Junkrat finished, a calm finality in his voice. Roadhog rumbled in quiet agreement.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having a hard time these past few days and was desperately craving a comfort fic between these two. When I couldn't find one that wasn't shippy I decided to just write my own. So have this fic about me projecting onto the poor trash child.
> 
> Also i mentioned some things that will be happening in my next fic (like the new mission with the raiders), and the ukulele will show up again in my one-shot collection.


End file.
